Still playing ball?
I repeated it in my head, as I walked briskly out the door, intent on not being stuck in the same situation I had been, surrounded by people playing this nefarious game. What’s the point, all these people..
I hadn’t tried to visit the FBI again, but I was sure her ‘game’ was about not complaining to the authorities. I walked outside, around the corner, and across the street… Noticing a small boutique hotel around the corner, I increased my pace and asked how much a night would be. “No rooms available tonight,” Of course not.
Feeling railroaded.. I thought that maybe if I did ‘play ball,’ I could end this hellish experience, feeling bold and armed with the new idea of attacking them on their own turf, I walked back in to the Marriott on Atlantic Ave.
This was street theater, but I didn’t know it yet. Strangers having staged conversations around you, with the sole intent of you hearing. Their conversations often included personal details from your life that they should have no knowledge of, or communicated a message to you. Alerting you to their constant presence, it serves to create the illusion of paranoia, one of the prime reasons for the attack. The attack works, and it’s been used for decades against honest victims, like James Jesus Angleton, too close to the truth. (tm)
I walked back in through the restaurant on the left side of the building, it was under construction. Unsure of whether or not I was doing the right thing, I slowly walked towards the front desk, I had received intimidating threats.. suggestions that I might be thrown from a balcony, as I re-affirmed my decision to stay at that hotel, I decided I would only stay on the first floor, just to be safe. “Any rooms available?” I asked, knowing full well the answer would be yes. “We have one ground floor room by the spa,” the clerk replied, without me even asking. “Perfect.”
I paid for two nights, thinking my girlfriend would join me, especially if I enticed her with the spa on the premises, and took the electronic key card and started walking towards the room. The blonde couple had been in the shadows behind me the entire time, and as I walked away, the woman made another comment, “did you even have to pay?”
I found the room, slipped the electronic key in to the door, and as I was walking in I overheard a voice, “he’s not going to be happy when he see’s the door.” I walked in and immediately surveyed the room, the first thing I notice is the glass sliding door, facing the parking lot is slightly ajar, and has no lock on it. Wonderful… Turning around and placing my book bag on the bed, I notice that the smoke detector is hanging off the wall it had been mounted on, pointed towards the room. Found one camera. I immediately stood up on the bed, thought about ripping it down and taking it for evidence.. ball game.. I placed the smoke detector back on its mount, and rotated it, locking it in place.
Afterwords, I decided to browse back to myfreecams.com
to see if the weirdness
was still there. Instantly after joining a room: “wow, where are you now?” I’ve got to be honest, I’m a little excited now, I’d pretty much decided this was an elaborate joke, and the whole thing was starting to be a little bit more.. fun. At least that’s how I felt right at that moment. Getting back to business, you know, trying to stop these very skilled hackers from being able to monitor my whereabouts using my cellular phone, I decided to upgrade to cyanogenmod
, leaving MFC in the background. I’ve done this many, many times, so in about 2 minutes I have the ROM downloaded, and I’m flashing.
From nowhere, I hear a voice.. “what’s wrong with this thing.. I can’t see him anymore.. anybody else having a problem with the phone?” My phone camera. Honestly, hadn’t even thought of it, but given the last surveillance device I had dealt with, it made a lot of sense. I also apparently just found out that there are multiple camera’s on this strange system.
Note to victims reading: Just like street theater, the camera story is designed to induce the appearance of insanity. The camera’s aren’t really there, not in your phone, not in your TV, and there aren’t people watching you all over the world, I promise. (It’s just the NSA and friends) The psychological abuse however, is real, and there are real people trying very hard to make you think you are being watched. They’re probably doing a pretty good job, too.
Feeling reassured that I had shut down all of the illicit surveillance, I called my girlfriend, who did not answer the phone, again. Time for some desperate measures, I phoned her best friend.